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Ménage à Trois : Chapter Three


Hialmar

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Chapter one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14044-ménage-à-trois/

Chapter two is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14054-ménage-à-trois-chapter-two/

 

Ménage à Trois

Chapter Three

Harry carried him through rooms and passageways on the upper floor: A room with bookshelves and a large flatscreen TV were hinted at in the dim light. Doors were open to an office and several guest rooms. A dark spacious bedroom: Heavy black silk curtains on each side of the window, a pair of plastic dumbbells laying in a corner, a door leading to a closet, a pair of chairs, a full-length mirror. Bedside tables stood on each side of the bed, and two pairs of handcuffs dangled threateningly from the bedposts. Harry threw him on the bed, and he landed on a bedspread of soft black leather, which was folded to reveal old-fashioned white linen and two sturdy woolen army-blankets. Master's expensive cologne and Harry's cheap anti-perspirant lingered faintly in the air. 

Master must have turned the lights on, but not any light: Blue lightbulbs spread a ghostly but atmospheric light in the bedroom. Harry jumped up in the bed, his knees bent and his legs on each side of Dick's. Harry's powerful hands massaged Dick's traps, and the sight of the cheerful glow in Harry's eyes, and the presence of Harry's naked powerful chest over him, almost caused Dick to cum there and then. Golden hair covered Harry's chest, and a realisation was beginning to dawn why Master called Harry "Cub".

"Do you remember what I did to you, the first night we met, Cub?"

Harry didn't answer, but he left the bed and disappeared into the closet. Master gave Dick his gloved hand, and helped him out of the bed. Master turned him around, and began to caress him lightly with gloved hands. The smooth leather brushed against Dick's nipples, and fingered at Dick's waist. What happened next came as a surprise. He could feel Master's shirtclad chest tightly to his back, and Master's strong arms keeping his own arms unable to move. A humming sound began in Harry's direction. Dick couldn't recognise it, at first, but when the hair trimmer touched his defenceless head it was too late. Tufts of his fashionable hairdo fell to the floor, and there was nothing he could do about it. Seconds felt like hours, when thoughts and fears crisscrossed through his alarmed mind: What would Principal say when the mild-mannered geography teacher returned from his weekend, looking like a thug? Mrs Potts would immediately start the gossip – anything deviating from her ideas about how it was in the 1950s fell victim to her relentless gossip. He couldn't do anything about it now – it was too late. He relaxed in Master's grip. The vibrations of the hair trimmer on his scalp were actually quite pleasant, and sent delightful shivers down his spine. Harry returned into the closet with the trimmer, and Master turned Dick to face the full-length mirror. In the sparse blueish light, the room looked unreal. Master looked even more like a figment of imagination, as the blue light shimmered in his glossy uniform shirt, trousers and boots, but Dick himself... A semi-naked thug in combat trousers and glossy steel-cap boots looked back at him from the mirror. The buzzcut entirely changed the way he looked. He knew that the reflection in the mirror was himself, but his feelings needed time to take it in. Master whispered:

"I could see what hid inside you, before you did. Now, hurry to the bathroom and wash your head. Itching hair-fragments don't make good sex."

He obeyed Master's order. Cold water on his head flushed the irritating fragments away, and he watched himself in wonder in the bathroom mirror. Was that himself?

He could feel Harry's arms around him, dragging him back into the bedchamber. He let it happen. It was, fun, exciting, playfully dangerous. He took the power of the short giant in, and found himself thrown on the bed again, now with his face down. Someone removed his trousers. Fear. Pain in one of his buttcheeks, but then it was over. Master buttoned his fly and fastened his leather belt. Ought he have shouted "Mauve-flower"? Master helped him up.

"What was that? The sting?"

"You will see tomorrow, at the gym, but it might make you hornier tonight."

He wanted to argue. If authority had been the only expression in Master's gaze, he would have began an argument, and the sexual encounter would have ended, but there was something more in those eyes: Something looking like earnest concern. Harry was behind him again, putting a jacket on him. He turned around with a question in his mouth, but he wasn't able to speak. He could see himself in the full-length mirror again, with Master and Harry standing proudly behind him. The olive-coloured bomber jacket of some sort of nylon was too large, and it could have belonged to Master in his younger days. The oversize wasn't necessarily a drawback: The puffy stuffing caused him to look bigger, and the blue light caused the jacket to shimmer in a metallic way. It went well with his combat trousers and steelcap boots – better than the worn leather jacket he had abandoned behind the sofa. Dick swallowed. He couldn't believe what he saw. Within a few minutes, Master and Harry had turned him into something looking like a skinhead.

Harry's hand was fumbling at Dick's crotch, and gave it a squeeze. Master leaned forward, and whispered in his ear, as a breath of scotch reached his nostrils:

"Do you like what you see? It was inside you all the time."

Then the two other men forced him to sit in one of the chairs, and fastened his wrists to the chair, still allowing him to watch his reflection in the mirror. Leather straps kept his hands behind the chair, and there was nothing he could do to stop the other two to do whatever they wanted to him. Master kneeled in front of him, and teasingly began to unbutton Dick's fly. Master's leather-clad grip around his cock... After two hours of teasing it was angrily engorged now, and lusted for release. Seeing and feeling the muscular authority-figure between his legs, the lips of Master closing around his dickhead and shaft, sent Dick into a mindless state. The skinhead sitting in the chair. Harry... Cub... watching eagerly. Master between his legs. Scent of Master's cologne. And cigar. And leather. And scotch. And Cub's Lynx. Straps around his wrists. Nothing he could do... Vulnerable. Served. The dominant one dominated. The powerless brought to pleasure. Three men together. Real men together. The inhibations dissolved into nothingness. Released from restrictions. The two muscular men. With him. Together. The waves inside him. The savage storm of instincts inside him. The steel rod between his legs. Waves inside him. Pleasure waves. Power waves. See tomorrow, at the gym. Hornier tonight. Yeah: Look at this thug. Pleasure this thug. Cub like to watch. Power waves. Master's biceps. Master's power-neck. Scent of leather. Throbbing. Power waves. More of a man. Scents. Waves. Pleasure. Throbbing. His entire body engorged. His entire body electrified. His mind ecstatic. Mind was body, and body was mind. Throbbing. Waves. Waves. WAVES. Oh fuck! Oh God! Oh, uh, uh. WAVES.

WAVES.

WAVES.

WAVES.

When he returned to awareness, he could hear Master ask him:

"Good, wasn't it?"

* * *

Chapter four is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14067-ménage-à-trois-chapter-four/

 

Edited by Hialmar
added link, consistency
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Before I began to write Ménage à Trois, I was wondering if the content would be too explicit for the readers here, but it seems like it has an audience. More twists and turns to come.

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